


Fraud in a Field of Poppies

by incogneato



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneato/pseuds/incogneato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Finn never liked sex, it hurt and he never enjoyed it. He asks the pilots why sex is great when it hurts so much."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fraud in a Field of Poppies

Finn valued the concept of fitting in. It took Poe a while to catch on, because Finn—as the only living ex-Stormtrooper, as a decorated hero of the Resistance, as the handsomest man on any given planet, as someone with a mixed bag of social skills—didn’t. Fit in. Almost ever. Poe didn’t realize at first that he was even _trying_ to. 

They were a few months into Finn living on the base as a conscious participant in Resistance life and not as a coma patient, though, and that this point, Poe thought things were going well. They were having dinner—stewed bhillen—and Finn’s eyes had gone wide when he smelled it but he’d looked at Poe before he said anything. 

Poe hated that Finn tamped himself down like this, but he played along. He winked and grinned and said, “Looks good, huh?” 

“Looks like there’s a lot of it,” said Jess, already with a bite in her mouth, and eyeing the line for more. 

“Looks _hearty_ ,” said Finn, and took a bite, and twisted his entire face up in displeasure. “Oh,” he said. “Well… it’s….” 

“You can hate it,” Poe promised, trying not to laugh, and kissed Finn’s cheek. “Lots of people do. No one at this table, but… people. Luke Skywalker might hate it. You might be in distinguished company.” 

“Oh, that’s something we do at the table? Good, a new tradition.” Snap kissed Finn’s other cheek, briefly, and Nien’s cheek, sloppily. He beckoned across the table. “Come here, Jess.” Jess made a rude gesture and shoved a jug of water in between them. 

“This is insubordination,” Poe complained. “I’m all the way over here, I can’t get at any of you. It’s taunting. And Finn’s my boyfriend, no fair kissing him. Keep your grubby lips on that hussy Nien.” 

“…kriffing _try_ that again,” Nien was muttering, scrubbing at his cheek. 

Finn, looking absurdly pleased with himself, kissed Snap’s cheek back. “There,” he said, “even.” 

Snap mimed swooning. Poe, with a smile and an arm around Finn to be _sure_ he knew he was joking, said, “And my heart is shattered,” and Finn laughed. All things considered, Poe figured they were in for a perfectly nice evening. 

Poe thought he was pretty good at not taking things for granted. He regularly hurtled alone through the depths of space while people fired lasers at him; it was enough to make a man stop and smell the blueblossoms. The problem was, the kind of thing he needed to not take for granted was less “Finn, alive and well, laughing when Poe stubbed his toe getting out of bed” and more “everyone knows that _rank_ is a food as well as an adjective.” Poe even thought he’d gotten pretty good—admittedly, by making mistakes (to someone whose only exposure to fiction consisted of being all but strapped in for mandatory viewing of propaganda shorts, _“No, I mean it, you’ve _got_ to watch a cycle of _Leia on Endor_ with me”_ sounded less like a date and more like a threat), but still. 

_“Don’t let me,”_ Finn had begged after the rank incident (which Poe was pretty sure Jess had thought was a joke anyway). _“Can’t you—can you tell me when I start to do things wrong? I don’t want to be the weird one, can’t you—”_ So Poe had been trying to head him off. Maybe he wanted to reward Finn acknowledging that he was upset. The begging had come with near-hyperventilation, which was awful to see, especially over something so minor, but wasn’t anything like as bad as the times Finn was upset and wouldn’t admit it even to himself, the times he smiled and made excuses for his shaking hands and racing pulse. 

“—so I switched all the power off,” Jessika said, “and dropped straight off their radars, over a hundred feet down—” 

“It was ‘over seventy’ last time,” said Snap, reaching around Finn’s back for the block of duusha. Finn kept eating (he’d stopped jumping when people touched him casually) but grinned (he hadn’t gotten over the thrill of people touching him casually). Poe carefully didn’t laugh or give in to his urge to kiss Finn again, for real this time. 

“—over a hundred feet straight down,” Jessika continued, loudly, pushing the jug of water closer in front of Snap like it might block his voice as well as his face. “Gravity’s a bitch on Hoth, I was going faster down than I’d been going forward, so this damn ball of ice-rock is coming up at me like someone’s fired it.” She was addressing herself mainly to Finn, who apart from being the only one who hadn’t heard their stories dozens of times was the most satisfactory person to boast to. The big eyes, the bated breath, the sunshine grin when everything turned out all right in the end. “I go to power back up and it _doesn’t work_.”

“What did you do?” Finn said, fingers of one hand fast on the edge of the table while he picked determinedly at the food with the other.

Jess sighed nobly. She’d stolen that technique from Poe. “The only thing I could do. Broke open the console to rewire the controls mid-fall. They’re going to name the move after me. What I did—”

“Technically,” said Snap from behind the water, “you could have ejected.” 

“And lost the Resistance a perfectly good X-Wing? Screw you.” 

Nien started snickering into his bowl. “Wouldn’t that be redundant?” 

“Don’t,” said Snap. “I swear. Don’t—”

“Since you already screwed his sister,” said Nien. 

Jess groaned. “Don’t get him started. How was I supposed to know she was his sister?” 

“You might have at least noticed that she was too young for you—”

“Snap, she’s two years younger than me, kriffing fuck. I’m not open to sexual criticism from a man who probably carves a little notche on the inside of his helmet every time he gets laid.” 

Nien waved a spoon at Jess. “Remember those girls on Takodana—”

Jess shrieked. “Best night of my life, no offense to Snap’s sister. What did they say they were again?”

“Well they didn’t admit to being acrobats, but….” 

“Poe.” Finn tugged at his elbow. 

Poe was delighted to disengage from the conversation, since he’d been there for the girls on Takodana and wasn’t totally sure how Finn would take that news. He didn’t act like he knew about jealousy even in the abstract, but sitting by while Poe reminisced about an orgy was a bit much to ask. He followed Finn’s pull on his arm, leaning into him. “Yeah, bud?” 

Finn bent closer, lips brushing Poe’s ear. “Why are they talking about having sex with _civilians_?” Finn whispered. “They’re joking around? They wouldn’t really?” 

The shiver going down him from having Finn’s breath on his neck in proximity to a conversation about the girls on Takodana (Finn was incredibly strong and his flexibility was startling; Poe bet he could do most of what they’d done, if the two of them ever got around to anything more than kissing) started to dissipate. “Well… well, Snap’s sister really is twenty,” he said. “And the girls on Takodana were fun, but—”

“Stop,” Finn said. Poe realized belatedly that leaning into Finn, as an activity, wasn’t going the way it usually did for him, with Finn all soft and open and tugging him closer. It was like leaning into a ferrocrete wall. 

So Poe did notice that Finn was upset, and that he’d taken—something—for granted here. He noticed at about the same time Jess did. Jess, who had the subtlety and tact of a Hutt, said, “Finn, you look kriffing awful.” 

“He’s jealous,” said Nien. “They didn’t let Stormtroopers _have_ as much fun as I had on my night with Grand Admiral Ackbar.”

“You’re not allowed to say that,” Jess groaned. “Don’t we have a rule about that night stating that it didn’t happen? Finn, seriously, do you feel all right?” 

And Poe knew—he knew already that whatever this was, Finn was going to regret admitting it in front of everyone, that if not knowing about a food or not understanding a joke bothered Finn so much, then this was going to kill him when he realized he was the only one. But before Poe could figure out how to shut him up gently, Finn said, “Why are you all talking like sex is some fun thing? Like you’d do it to civilians?” 

Finn rarely sounded accusatory. When he did, with the cutting eyes and the sweet face, he packed a punch. Poe felt like they’d been caught laughing around the dinner table about all the babies they’d murdered. 

“But,” said Snap, and stopped. The clatter from the rest of the cafeteria parted around them. The silence at their table ballooned. 

“Sex isn’t fun for 80% of my species,” said Nien hopefully. Poe wanted to hit him, a little, except that he hoped that wasn’t what it sounded like too. They’d misunderstood and Finn would nod in agreement with Nien, mollified. “I’m a real weirdo on Sullust.” 

“We’ve all had sex that wasn’t fun,” Jess offered. “It happens. Mostly to Snap’s girlfriends, I bet.” 

Finn dropped his hands from the table. He latched onto the bench with one and grabbed Poe’s with the other. “Captain Phasma says it’s a lazy disciplinary technique. She says just because it’s unpleasant doesn’t make it an effective teaching tool, and she only allows it for expediency.” 

Poe’s head went white and all he could hear was the sea. He thought: _Oh, she’s “Captain” Phasma now, that’s not good,_ and he thought: _I know that but I didn’t know this._

“You don’t think I ever made Ackbar mad, do you?” Finn said. 

“ _No_ ,” said Snap, when Poe couldn’t think where to start. “Definitely not. Nobody’s mad at you. Ever. Definitely no.” 

“I didn’t mean that,” said Nien. “Ackbar wouldn’t—do that.” 

“Oh, good,” said Finn, with the knife’s-edge relief of when he wanted to believe someone but didn’t, quite, not yet. “Or you—you guys wouldn’t do that to civilians.” 

“ _No_ ,” said Jess. “I mean, we have _sex_ with people, but—Poe, you—” she waved a hand at Finn. “Explain.” She nodded, problem solved. “Tell him.” 

Poe looked at Finn’s hand in his, half-hidden under the table. “We need to go,” he said. “Finn? Okay? Let’s go. We should talk to—someone.” Not a medical droid after all. That had been his plan. He’d thought Finn didn’t understand what sex was, and that was why he acted irritated or embarrassed when one or both of them got hard while they were kissing. He’d thought he’d eventually ask a med droid to take Finn aside and explain. But—he couldn’t expect some poor thing programmed to give stitches and lectures about healthful sleep to handle this. He banged his knee on the table getting up, his balance off, but kept hold of Finn’s hand. 

“We’re not done eating,” Finn said, already halfway to his feet. 

“We’ll eat later.” Poe wasn’t sure he wanted to eat ever again. He still didn’t know where they were going, but flying blind had landed him safe before. He got them outside, where it was drizzling rain and going dark but the air moved more freely, before Finn pulled him to a halt beneath a tree. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to ruin dinner. Was it bad, what I said?” 

Poe’s brain swerved. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe they’d all overreacted. “Finn,” he said, the world teetering back toward not being completely horrible, “ _you_ didn’t ever get punished like that, did you?” 

Finn squinted at him. “What, by someone fucking me? Well… yeah. I didn’t mess up all that bad.” He sounded faintly indignant. He added, “If I’d done something awful I’d have been referred to Phasma or Hux, and they wouldn’t have used _sex_. Did you think I did something terrible? It was just stupid stuff, no one here would care,” with a faint note of pride that he was sure of that now. “Not matching my time on exercises, being late to the bunks, stuff like that.” 

Poe felt like something important had crumbled out from under them. He surged forward instead of falling back, since those felt like the only two options, and wrapped his arms around Finn. 

Finn hugged him back the way he always did, open and easy. He buried his nose behind Poe’s ear and held on, and then said, “Poe?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I know you wouldn’t do that to me. Obviously. But um… you didn’t—to civilians? Maybe I don’t understand about civilians,” he added hastily, “because we didn’t actually meet any. But _you_ didn’t, even if Jess and them did, right?” 

“ _No_ ,” Poe said. “Not the way you’re talking about, no, Jess and Snap and Nien either. That’s not an okay way to punish someone, Finn, nobody will ever, ever do that to you again, I swear.” _I’ll kill them,_ he thought distantly. He wasn't sure who he meant. 

“Oh,” Finn said, voice winding up toward cheerful as his grip tightened around Poe’s back. “Good.” 

They slept in the same bunk. From almost the first night Finn had gotten out of medical he’d slept in Poe’s bed. At first he’d found excuses to start out there—to chat or read or do a little mechanical work—and then excuses to get under the covers— it was cold or he was uncomfortable—and then, very obviously, he’d feign sleep until Poe just got in with him. 

_“If you want to sleep with me, pal, you can,”_ Poe told him eventually, because the fake-sleep thing was adorable but had to be exhausting. Finn was so alert when he did it, eyes flickering under his lids, muscles frozen, ears practically pricked up. And it was just as adorable the way every single bit of tension in him drained out when Poe got in with him and laid down and asked BB-8 to get rid of the light. It was even a little bit of an ego trip, to have someone as capable and brilliant as Finn sink into the mattress and drop into total, trusting unconsciousness the second he felt Poe’s back against his. But again—exhausting in the meanwhile. Not worth it, Poe had decided, nobly. 

His self-sacrifice was rewarded. _“If we sleep together on purpose, we’re boyfriends, aren’t we?”_ Finn had said, hopeful dark eyes pinning Poe where he stood. 

Poe remembered, in time, not to make assumptions. _“We—I mean, I’d certainly be in favor of—I’d like that—what, uh, what would that mean, being boyfriends?”_

Finn shrugged. _“We could kiss,”_ he said, almost as nonchalant as his faked sleep, and Poe grinned.

 _“Yeah? You think you could condescend to kiss me?”_

_“If we’re boyfriends,”_ Finn allowed, like he wasn’t swaying forward already like a heroine in a holodrama, gaze on Poe’s lips. 

_“We’re boyfriends, we’re boyfriends,”_ Poe agreed, fast enough to catch Finn’s waist before he could sway the other way again, and _finally_ he’d gotten to kiss Finn. Finn kissed as wholeheartedly as he did everything, kissed with his arms around Poe’s neck, his whole body pressed to Poe’s, every time like he couldn’t get close enough. 

Finn didn’t take anything for granted, not once, not for a second.

And kissing was all he’d offered, so it was all they’d done, but—

 _“I know you wouldn’t do that to me”_ rang in Poe’s ears like a blow. He kept seeing the way Finn had gotten up to follow him from the table even mid-protest, and remembering every time he’d had Finn on the bed, firm and hot under his hands, mouth open under his, and thought, _So he hasn’t talked to a med droid yet, we could still do just little more…._ and almost gone through with it. 

“We need the General,” Poe decided, because he couldn’t do this. He’d played along while Finn forced himself to believe that there was nothing in the food to send them straight to sleep, or that nobody was listening in on them at night. He’d found ways to respond to studiedly casual statements like, _“It’d make sense for the Resistance to look out for spies every way they can, though.”_ He’d watched Finn scrape at himself, at a sense of who he was strong enough he’d walked away from a lifetime of conditioning, and do it with a hopeful smile. Like if he found the right way to ask Poe would say, _“All right, we’re being monitored every second,”_ and Finn wouldn’t even mind as long as Poe admitted it. One night Poe had gone through and insulted every member of Resistance command on their appearance, intelligence, and parentage until Finn was breathless laughing—and he didn’t sleep for ages, then trembled and sweated with nightmares when he did—and when they hadn’t gotten in trouble the next day, or the day after, or the day after that, Finn started to believe him. 

Poe couldn’t imagine what to say once Finn started making excuses for this. 

Poe shuddered, or maybe Finn did. “Do we have to?” 

“I think we better.” He didn’t move. There was rain dripping down the back of his neck, sticky from the leaves overhead. There were so many times, with Finn beautiful and seemingly happy under him— “You’d tell me if I hurt you, right? If I did something you didn’t like, you’d ask me to stop?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Finn said. He meant it, Poe thought—right then, he meant it. Finn usually meant what he said, in the moment. Sometimes that was the worst part. 

General Organa had questioned Finn about his time with the First Order. That night Finn was practically in Poe’s lap from the second the door closed behind them, and finally he asked when they were going to question him _“for real. I don’t mind, I know they could save lives by being thorough, it’s just I was all set, I wanted to get it over with.”_ And he kept saying that, that he didn’t mind. Poe had tugged Finn’s fingers out of the fists they’d curled into and held his hands, which were shaking. _“Sorry,”_ Finn said, _“I must be getting a spasm.”_ He’d meant it, Poe could see he meant it, didn’t think there was any connection. He believed he was going to be strapped in and interrogated like a criminal and he believed he was fine with it. 

“Only, um, why?” Finn said. “Why do we have to talk to the General?” 

“Kriff, Finn, because you think maybe we go around raping people in our spare time and I don’t know how to explain—didn’t _anybody_ ever just want to have sex—no commanding officers, not as a punishment, just—two people who liked each other?”

Finn burrowed his face into the crook of Poe’s neck and grumbled. He didn’t answer for long enough that Poe almost told him to forget it. “I guess,” he said reluctantly, “a few.” Poe had a judgmental maiden aunt who spoke about sex with less disapproval in her tone. 

“But?”

“But….” Finn said. Poe was pretty sure he said. His voice was low and he was speaking into the collar of Poe’s jacket; the exact word was fuzzy. “I know some people like things that h-hurt, or are bad for them, or…. The officers liked it. The ones who did it. That wasn’t supposed to—Phasma said it was our responsibility to conduct ourselves like Stormtroopers and their responsibility to correct us when we didn’t and that was all there was to it but—the ones who used sex, they liked it and they wanted us to mess up so they could fuck us. I know they did.” 

“Yeah,” Poe said, fast enough that it collided with the end of Finn’s sentence. “Finn, yeah they did. Sex isn’t a _punishment_. They made that up to get away with rape.” _With raping you,_ he almost said, but he still couldn’t. He almost pictured it and every time, his mind veered off, caught on some detail—had they been alone or in a group, where were they… he didn’t even know how that armor worked, how much would have to come off. And it all came back to this: He couldn’t understand anyone hurting Finn like that. 

“Right.” Finn sounded surer now. “It was selfish. So the ones who had sex together for fun, they were….” He laughed. He was muffled by Poe’s neck but nothing else. It was a genuine laugh, incredulous. His fingers dug into Poe’s sides. “Messed up.” 

“Finn….” Poe’s single best plan was foisting this on General Organa. He didn’t know if he should just be relieved Finn admitted rape was a shoddy disciplinary technique, or push the concept of consensual sex so Finn wouldn’t think he was surrounded by sadists. _General Organa_ , he told himself, _will know._

“So if no one here uses sex,” Finn started, cautious. 

“They don’t,” Poe leapt in. If Finn said he’d _understand_ or something Poe’d be sick. People did exist who’d take advantage, given the chance, but _not with institutional approval, they don’t_ was a shade of gray he didn’t want to introduce at this stage. _I can’t leave him alone with anyone who outranks him,_ he thought, dizzy with it, and then told himself that was silly, he trusted his superiors or he wouldn’t be taking orders from them. 

Finn straightened to face him, eyes deep and clear. 

_Never,_ Poe decided. _Not with anyone who outranks him. We’ll take shifts if we have to._

“Sure.” Finn pulled a face, like he was embarrassed to ask. “But… so then what… why do Jess and Snap and Nien have sex for fun, like the ones who got messed up? Since they never got punished with it.” 

“I…” 

Dread built on Finn’s face. “Come on, tell me.” 

“No, I just—I just don’t want this to have happened to you, I wish I could fix it.” He pulled Finn closer and kissed his forehead, holding him tight but not as tight as he wanted to. His limbs nearly shook with the energy that should have gone toward protecting Finn. It was useless now, pointless, too late. “At least grant me this one—the troopers who had sex together, for fun, no officers. That didn’t hurt anyone, did it?” 

“Well.” Finn looked shocked. “Not physically maybe. It was still messed up.” 

“O-okay, I see your… but what if it really didn’t have anything to do with the punishment, what about then? What if they just… no.” Finn’s expression was more and more what it might have been if Poe had suggested someone genuinely and spontaneously wanted to fire a blaster into their own foot: he wasn’t ruling it out, but it was strange and unsettling. “All right, never mind. Can you take my word for it for now, that sex isn’t a punishment here, and—” _we_ “—Jess and everyone have something else going on?” 

Finn bit his lip. “If I take your word for it, could we talk to the General tomorrow? Instead of tonight?” 

Poe could count on one hand the number of times he’d managed to tell Finn “no” and stick with it. He didn’t even try. “Sure, bud.” 

They went straight to their room, and Poe was considering locking Finn in there, safe, while he went and got their dinners. Semi-fortunately, Snap showed up instead, balancing two bowls. He was red in the face and not meeting either of their eyes, but Poe appreciated the team choice of delegate. Snap was less than half as likely as Jess or Nien to ask uncomfortable questions. It occurred to him that the pilots might think he and Finn had been fucking, and now they might think—But he couldn’t blurt out, _“And tell everyone in the hangar I have not been accidentally raping my boyfriend,”_ he decided. It would be unhelpful at the moment. 

His relief didn’t take Finn into account. Finn tried so hard to be polite it was easy to forget he didn’t really know how. And that as badly as he wanted to be, he was willing to abandon the attempt entirely in the name of more important things. 

Snap, scuffing his boots against the floor, blurted “I’m sorry” in Finn’s general direction. 

“That’s okay,” Finn said, pleasant. He was sitting on Poe’s desk, swinging his legs a little, already picking up where he’d left off with dinner. Poe would have been happy to see it, except it was meaningless. Finn ate when it was mealtime, whether he felt like it or not. “Now you know.” 

“I _do_ ,” Snap said. “We do. Sorry. We’ll be careful how we joke around. Now. Because we know.” 

“Good.” Finn shoveled bhillen into his mouth and spoke through it—he didn’t use to do that, but it was how everyone ate in the mess hall. “One time,” he said, “I didn’t clean third level well enough, and an officer told me to go to his room and wait for him, but I ran into Phasma on the way there.” 

Poe could picture it all just fine now. He set his bowl on the desk. 

“She asked where I was going, and when I told her, for a second I thought she was going to order me not to and I was really glad. She didn’t,” he added, “but it would have meant a lot to me if she had. Even that once.” He smiled. He was always beautiful when he smiled. Poe couldn’t look away. “Every time helps,” he said, “even if it’s a little late. So… now that you know.” 

Snap, Poe found, was no longer red in the face. He’d gone pale. He stared at Poe, incredulous. Poe made a gesture that he hoped subtly indicated he had not, despite his best efforts, been able to undo a lifetime of lies and mistreatment in the last quarter hour. 

“I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll definitely. Yeah.” Snap took a step toward Finn. 

Finn twitched back. It took Poe a second to register it as a flinch. 

“Goodnight,” Snap blurted, and all but ran out of the room. Poe hoped he was going to have a good cry. He’d have liked one himself, and he’d have liked Finn to have one or at least admit he needed one, but at least _someone_ could get one. 

Finn ate everything on his plate, the way he always did, and got ready for bed the way he always did, and Poe drifted in his wake, until they got to the actual bed. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” he said. 

“What?” Finn finally looked consciously upset. “Why? Don’t you want to kiss?” 

“But you don’t—” Poe crouched in front of Finn and took his hands. Finn held on, hands warm and strong, the same as ever. “It doesn’t bother you? You sounded like you’re pretty set against… sex stuff.” 

“Kissing isn’t about sex,” Finn said, laughing, but it trailed off. His fingers closed tighter around Poe’s. “They do it in holos for kids,” he added, scandalized. 

Poe nodded. “So you’ve been fine with kissing me, this whole time.” His chest felt a little bit less like a bantha had planted its foot there. “You want to. You aren’t just doing it because you think I want you to?”

“I wanted to, yeah.” He tugged Poe up onto the bed and curled into his side. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me. Obviously,” he repeated, half under his breath. 

“I won’t,” Poe said. He wrapped his arms tight around Finn. “Never.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t kiss tonight,” Finn said. 

“No, not if you don’t want to.” 

Finn nodded to himself, cheek soft on Poe’s shoulder. He slung an arm over Poe’s waist and dropped off to sleep, just like that. 

Poe ran his fingers down the back of Finn’s head toward his neck, over and over. How long had he been putting off the med droid conversation, he wondered—he couldn’t remember when he’d started to assume that Finn just needed sex explained. It had never seemed like a good time. Finn was—well, they weren’t sure how old he was exactly, but in his twenties—and it felt… condescending. Awkward. 

Finn had faked his way through an entire conversation about the Max Rebo Band rather than admit he was the only one in the room who’d never heard “Lapti Nek,” and later he laughed giddy relief into Poe’s shoulder that everyone bought it. 

Poe couldn’t put this conversation off; he couldn’t leave Finn to think every offhand reference to sex he heard in the hangar was confirmation that he was surrounded by kriffing monsters. They had to figure this out tomorrow. Either he’d refuse to believe them and never trust anyone but Poe again, or—or he’d accept it. And then have to accept that turns of phrase that didn’t make sense to him, or music he’d never heard, were nothing, nothing, in terms of fitting in, because he’d told a tableful of people that he used to get raped regularly. 

He’d asked Poe to stop him before he gave things away. 

Poe wrapped his arm around Finn and held tight. Finn settled closer to him with a sigh, like he still trusted Poe, like Poe deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1841.html?thread=3004721#cmt3004721) prompt on the tfa kink meme. Title is from Ben Lerner's _Mean Free Path._
> 
> ETA: Thank you so much for your comments! I won't be continuing this, but if anyone else wants to, go ahead! Get Mama Leia in there.


End file.
